


rectification

by shomarus



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shomarus/pseuds/shomarus
Summary: She’d lost the case. Full custody, even partial custody was out of the question. But how could they tell Rindy? What kind of monster did you have to be to do something like that in the first place...? The most roundabout way to say it was that dear old ma was a criminal unfit for child care. That wasn’t the whole story, that was hardly even a part of it in the first place.Carol Aird had been charged on grounds of sexual deviancy. Her verdict?Unrepentantly guilty.





	rectification

**Author's Note:**

> i polished up one of my wips from october, when i first read the book. it was originally longer, going into detail about the oak room but uh..... i lost the paper i wrote it on??? so. whoops. because this was written immediately after i read the book, there might be some inconsistencies, because at the time i didn't have a physical copy and i didnt wanna sift through a pdf to fact-check when all i wanted to do was write so, haha, whoops  
> i do have a few other wips from 2017 i need to polish and post but they'll come later.
> 
> hm i also figure that i should mention the being charged for sexual deviancy was meant to be more metaphorical than literal? since i figure a comment about it would come up otherwise.
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading!! :')

“Mother?”

Rindy’s voice brought Carol out of her minute-long stare (and she hated herself for doing that, for she already had so little time to share with her daughter). Carol said nothing, but offered up a smile of warmth, which seemed to encourage Rindy enough to share her question. But not without a pause of unsure silence.

“You’ll be home for Christmas next year, right?” Carol’s heart could have stopped in that moment—it probably already had. “‘Cause you weren’t here for Christmas or for New Years, and daddy said that’s because you were busy…” A quick glance at Rindy’s uncle, her current visitation supervisor (and how silly it was that she needed one in the first place) next to her said nothing, damn the man to hell and back. No look of sympathy, not even a creased eyebrow of pity for Rindy. Carol refocused, angered.

“Of course, sweetpea.” Even as the words had trailed her thoughts, they seemed vague and fake. It was a blatant lie, and perhaps her daughter was able to see that the promise was just as hollow as she felt. The truth, for which she spared Rindy, was that they’d rarely be able to see each other for the rest of their life, if at all. It was easier for Carol to lie now and mull about it over the coming months (because she wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ cry anymore than what she already had).

She’d lost the case. Full custody, even partial custody was out of the question. But how could they tell Rindy? What kind of monster did you have to be to do something like that in the first place...? The most roundabout way to say it was that dear old ma was a criminal unfit for child care. That wasn’t the whole story, that was hardly even a part of it in the first place.

Carol Aird had been charged on grounds of sexual deviancy. Her verdict?

Unrepentantly guilty.

Hell, she hadn’t even gone to the damn court. She knew she wasn’t winning an absolute goddamn thing with the kind of things Harge had on her. While she felt irritable over the matter now, there was definitely a feeling of euphoria that came with the thought that she had some perverse power over Harge that he couldn’t use to exploit her. Her indifference—at least, her _faux_ indifference, for Carol could never stop caring for Rindy. Nevertheless.

She’d given up too much to fight a losing battle.

Therese probably despised her—although Carol supposed that she had much of a right to that as anyone else. The public eye loathed her (how she couldn’t care less about that!) and then there was the issue of Rindy. Sweet, precious little Rindy.

Why had she been so eager to go to New York, when she knew the evidence against her would be damning? Perhaps, Carol thought, it was the fact that Therese was so young. Nineteen, she had been when they met. To tie down a woman like that with her own tired melancholia; that just wouldn’t be fair, would it? After turning the thought over in her mind, she knew that wasn’t it. She’d been selfish back in the rooms of Colorado Springs, back in Waterloo, and she had continued to be selfish all the way through then and some more. No, that wasn’t the reason.

It was fear. And hopefulness, but mostly fear.

What was there to fear when Therese was at her side? Everything and nothing at once. It was a kind of bittersweet anxiety that cared not to reveal itself until Carol and Therese were both in bed, with Therese pretending to be asleep and Carol dreaming of cold hands that snuffed lights of the future, and jeering voices that destroyed hearts. Fear of her own selfishness, that she _was_ using Therese, or that one day Therese would wake up, realize she didn’t want any of this, and leave her life in the same way of which she came. Carol could have sobbed, and she could have wished that Therese never fell in love with her. That _she_ never fell in love with her. That she, and painful as it would have been, would have stayed with Richard.

Because Richard would have displayed just as much stability as Carol, who was hardly stable enough for her own tastes, but at the very least Richard was not a woman. Her eyes began to sting, and she just couldn’t fathom why.

Carol was crying.

“Mom?” Rindy. Rindy’s voice was something she could ground herself with. Carol forced a million-dollar smile, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“It’s nothing, dear,” she said, wagging a finger in front of Rindy’s face. Children were not stupid, and Carol would have never wanted to imply Rindy was such. No, she knew that there _was_ something wrong, but she wouldn’t say anything about it. Carol thanked the stars, because if Rindy _had_ said anything, in a state where she was just as fragile as a flower (the geraniums she had bought Therese came to mind, and a fresh wave of sadness came over her), she may as well have started bawling.

She should stop this crying now and grow into the mother she so desperately wanted to be for Rindy. It was unbecoming of Carol to get so worked up over something so simple—but it wasn’t simple, that she knew—because Carol had always prided herself on rejecting the emotions of the world. Alas, even she was a slave to her own heart, chain and all.

When Therese would return the car, that would be when Carol proposed the idea of living together with her. It was a silly one, a thought that would only come from a petulant schoolgirl with high dreams and no understanding of the world.

It gave her hope, and that was dangerous thing to have.

“Why don’t you tell me about school? Father tells me that you’ve been an excellent student this year, but I think I would prefer to hear it from you,” Carol cooed, bringing Rindy closer into her arms. She’d let go of Rindy already, and perhaps the only good thing in her life. As long as she was given the chance, she would hold on to Therese for as long as possible.

For there were mistakes she had to rectify. She would make them right.


End file.
